


Two Weeks

by druscilla



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5178068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druscilla/pseuds/druscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's only been gone two weeks, but Pete's complete off the deep end and he can help but blame himself.  Pete is having none of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanoftheprofoundbond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheprofoundbond/gifts).



He could feel himself twisting into knots, bending and folding and looping and tightening again. It hurt and it was pulling across his chest and making it hard to breathe. He didn’t know what to do. There was no one around and no one to call since Patrick was on a red eye flight at the moment and Pete was supposed to pick him up in a few hours. He was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen. But he wasn’t going to let Patrick know about it until the last minute in case some great miracle did arise and he managed to be able to get out of bed.

Patrick had been gone for two weeks. All the teeny tiny problems that the boy was usually able to stave off at the beginning with some reassuring words and soft kisses had been piling up and building until Pete wasn’t even sure what he was so upset about anymore. Nothing. Everything.

He pulled the blanket tighter around him and tried to keep the tears behind his closed eyes. No luck. Why should he have luck with that when he couldn’t with anything else? He gave up and let the tears flow, screaming in the empty house and wincing when he felt the bed move and Hemingway run away.

He had forgotten the dog was there. Was he really that self-absorbed? Was he that much of a monster? The tears kept falling, but he bit his lips to keep the screams inside. It hurt, but not as much as the knots pulling tighter. Now he was sure his heart rate was slowing, which he couldn’t handle. He needed as much blood pumped through him as possible or he was probably going to suffocate and never wake up.

He did wake up though, to Hemingway barking and a very worried voice calling his name. He was frozen, like ice, unable to even move his mouth to yell back and let the other boy know he was alive. He heard the feet running up the stairs and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, wishing he could move to stuff his fingers in his ears.

“Baby …” Patrick said sadly as Pete felt the bed sink down. Arms wrapped around him outside the blanket, letting him stay hidden but pulling him to safety nonetheless. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured softly. “I won’t go for that long again. I’m sorry.”

Pete squirmed and one of his feet kicked out, the ice block slowly starting to melt. He felt sick. Patrick shouldn’t have been apologizing for going home to see his family. He was glad his mouth was still frozen.

“I missed you,” Patrick told him. “Especially when you stopped charging your phone and I couldn’t call you.”

Pete was starting to smother under the blankets. His fingers were beginning to thaw now and he pushed open a hole between the edges of the blanket for air. He hadn’t talked to Patrick in almost a week. His phone wasn’t dead. It was sitting in the bottom of the swimming pool because he didn’t want to talk to people who could tell how fucked up he was over the phone. Patrick would have come home early. Pete didn’t want that guilt too.

“Baby, please,” the younger boy whispered, “talk to me.”

Pete’s lips were still frozen, but when the younger boy slowly started to pull the covers back, he knocked the rest of the ice off. “No!” he gasped, reaching desperately for the edges and pulling them back. “Don’t.”  
Patrick pushed his face against the other boys back and tried not to cry. He had known this was a bad idea. Now he’d broken Pete. He’d only needed to be in Chicago for a week for the wedding but he’d taken an extra one just for himself, to clean a few things at the condo he didn’t sleep in and just to get away from all of it for awhile. He hadn’t told Pete that part.

He started slightly when Pete began to speak, with too many pauses between words and so quiet at times that Patrick could barely hear him. “You should be able to go home. You shouldn’t have to come back. Not to this.”

This time Patrick ripped the comforter of his head, ignoring the small cry Pete gave and climbing over him so he could look in the sad brown eyes under the mess of unwashed black hair. “Stop it. You’re not going to try and break up with me again. You do this every time I leave.”

“Did you have fun?” Pete asked.

Skeptically, Patrick gave a small nod.

“Is this fun?”

“Stop it!” Patrick kissed him hard on the mouth. “I’m not with you because it’s fun. I’m with you because I love you, you stupid brat.”

“You should love someone else.”

“Just stop,” Patrick snapped, letting his frustrations get the best of him. “I feel bad enough without you trying to convince me to leave you, okay? Just let me fix it.”

Pete’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want you to feel bad,” he whispered as they spilled over onto his cheeks. “I want you to be happy. All the time. You should be with someone happy.”

“I’m never going to be happy with anyone who isn’t you,” Patrick said, his voice low and even. “So please stop and let me wash your hair and make you breakfast and do the laundry, okay?”

“I can wash my hair.”

“I want to. I missed you.”

Pete lowered his eyes. “I threw my phone in the pool.”

“So you wouldn’t have to talk to me?”

He nodded. “I knew you’d know I was messed up and come home. I just wanted you to get your break.”

Patrick froze that time, but just a thin layer of ice. When his mouth moved, it shattered the entire thing. “I went to a wedding.”

“Weddings don’t last two weeks.”

“There was a–”

“Don’t lie to me,” Pete told him, lifting his gaze again. “You needed to go back for awhile. It’s fine. I don’t own you. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“But look at you.”

Pete snorted. “I do this when you’re here, too, stupid. This is just me. You can’t fix it by being around me all the time. I’m bi-po-lar. Not sad because I miss you.” His face softened slightly. “Well, I am but that’s not why …” He gestured at his whole self.

Patrick’s face fell into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because we all deserve secrets,” Pete said. “Unless you’re going to use it to blame yourself for stuff that isn’t your fucking fault.”

The younger gave a choked sort of laugh and sat up, eyes shining but smiling. “Okay. Okay, fine.” He sighed. “So can I wash your hair now?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You can wash my hair.” As he sat in the tub, with Patrick behind him, he realized the ice melting had loosened the knots.


End file.
